


I’ll Always Be Waiting in the Back Room

by Flames_and_Jade



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Babies, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Dirty Talk, Domestic Fluff, Frat Parties, Halloween 2017, Halloween Costumes, M/M, Making Out, Mirror Sex, Oral Sex, Rimming, Sassy!Patrick, Semi-Public Sex, Strangers to Lovers, dads with kids, music student!patrick, post-sex cuddling, post-sex snark, sloppy blowjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 08:05:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12577352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flames_and_Jade/pseuds/Flames_and_Jade
Summary: Two snippets revolving around Halloween for our favorite duo...with copious smut because...yes.





	I’ll Always Be Waiting in the Back Room

**Author's Note:**

> I blame SnitchesandTalkers entirely for the copious amounts of sex in this story. She begged me to write something with smut so she wouldn’t be the only one! Also, I posted this from my phone, which is a ridiculously challenging thing to do, so please forgive any formatting errors!

~~2003~~

“Seriously...why in the fucking world is this extra credit?” Pete whined in between prissy music students, who were slowing to a trickle now that the Fall Showcase was only ten minutes from starting. “Like...how is this helping me become better at PolySci? Is my career going to explode because I can hand out papers to people as they walk through a doorway?”

“Maybe it's an exercise in patience and not bitching? Valuable skills for a politician?” Andy supplied sagely, giving his wise-old-man smile to a girl with orange hair as she flounced through, grinning from ear to ear. Pete huffed, deciding that the fact that Andy was doing this out of the goodness of his heart, rather than because otherwise he’d fail Sophomore Civic Leadership, didn’t give him an adequate perspective to judge.

The woman who had given them the bundles of programs hustled them inside at 4:05, saying everyone who wasn’t there would just have to miss out, and Pete tried to hold back a snort. But at a gentle glare from Andy, he dutifully moved to the back wall like a good usher, to make sure anybody who left during the music wouldn't get tragically lost on the way to the bathroom and miss the remainder of the performance.

He was pretty sure he fell asleep standing up for the first half an hour or so...God classical music was the worst. It was a good thing all those weird guys with wigs and such were dead, he decided, because they had no sense of rhythm. But he perked up at the sound of drums and looked at the stage, hoping for something that had been written this century...and noticed that there was a pretty cute guy pushing up his glasses and settling down behind the kit, all pale skin and was that a bow tie? A curvy girl with her hair cut in a 50’s style bob approached the mic and introduced the piece and thanked Patrick for filling in on drums and Joe--a taller dude with curly hair that looked distinctly uncomfortable in a too-big dress shirt--for the guitar work. With that she launched into a soulful, bluesy rendition of Down the Road, and Pete found himself tapping along to the masterful beat this Patrick kid was laying down. It was good. He found himself drifting along the side of the auditorium to get a bit closer, see a bit better...because what was extra credit if he wasn’t fully invested, right?

Edging close to the velvet curtains at the side of the stage, he peered up and grinned. Drums guy--Patrick--was totally into it, tongue poking out adorably from between plush lips and brow furrowed. His hair was long and poking out from under a newsboy cap that somehow didn’t look old-man-ish, and Pete decided he really needed to get to know this guy. Someone that pretty and could keep a beat like that? That’s who Pete Wentz needed to become better acquainted with.

But then he was being hustled back to his place by the Matron of Music as the song ended…and Patrick was gone.

~//~

The music was thumping, loud and endless as he walked up, shivering a little in the crisp air but uncaring. Halloween was the greatest night of the year...and tonight was going to be epic. Chi Alpha Gamma was throwing some sort of rager that everyone had been talking about for weeks, and while he really wasn’t into the Alphabet Soup scene he’d never turn down the best Halloween party on campus.

Three hours later, he was feeling no pain and could barely hear anything...but who cared. He was tipsy, the music was perfectly curated by some sort of actual musical genius--a delightful blend of spooky soundtracks, cheesy Halloween songs, and classics like Thriller and even some David Bowie--and he was trying to find where he had lost Brendon. Turning the corner by what he thought was an upstairs bathroom, he glimpsed something that was probably an orgy and shook his head, hoping that wasn’t where B had gotten off to…and collided with someone.

“Fuck, my bad!” Pete was caught off guard as he picked himself up from his totally-undignified sprawl to look up into a downright gorgeous face, eyes squinted as he looked for something. “Uh, what are you--”

“--My glasses, dipshit, I can’t fucking see…” His crash-companion adjusted what was apparently a curly black wig and glared at the floor until Pete saw what he was searching for, sweeping the glasses up and setting them on his nose dramatically.

“There you go!”

“Thanks.” The expected response was more annoyance than gratitude, but Pete forgot to be upset at that as the other person’s face relaxed out of the scowl and he realized this guy was hot. “I thought the glasses would help the costume.” The scowl was back and Pete grinned, guessing where this was going but unable to help himself from fucking with the hot guy.

“Yeah? What are you supposed to be anyways? My Grandpa?”

 _“For fuck’s sake._ ” The guy’s fists balled at his sides as he shook his head violently. “I’m not Carl from UP, or Hugh Hefner, or Dirty Grandpa, I’m a goddamned music major for crying out loud, why the fuck would I be a porn--”

“--Buddy Holly, right?” Pete interrupted, grinning from ear to ear at the absolutely adorable tirade and the hesitantly-transcendent smile overtaking the kid’s face. “That’s who you’re dressed up as.”

“YES.” It was like storm clouds melting away after the torrent as he smiled, eyes twinkling behind the thick lenses. “Oh my God, THANK YOU. Nobody listens to good music anymore, like they’re called the classics for a fucking reason.” He stuck his hand out and Pete was suddenly wrapped up in a handshake he could only describe as all-encompassing. “I’m Patrick.”

“Pete.” He fluffed his cape a bit, just because and then it clicked in his head. “Wait...did you play drums for the Fall Showcase? With that girl?”

“Ummm...yeah? Were you there?” Patrick cocked his head to the side, looking him up and down and Pete knew what he saw--straightened hair spiked up artistically, eyeliner rimmed his eyes and made them glitter, tight black pants and ruffled shirt with a ridiculously-flamboyant cape that Brendon had “borrowed” from the costume department for him. “Are you….theater?” His brow furrowed as he tried to reconcile the nearest guess and Pete laughed.

“No, my buddy Brendon is, that’s where I got this getup except for the pants--those are mine. I’m poly-sci.”

“Why didn’t you go to to UofC? They have a better program.” Patrick asked and Pete noticed that somehow they had drifted back downstairs and he noticed the bowl of dubiously-spiked punch. Ladling them out cupfulls, he handed one to Patrick and tried not to stare at the way he licked his lips after taking a drink.

“Soccer scholarship--free outdoes prestige any day in my book.”

Huffing, Patrick squinted at him, eyes full of judgement. “You don’t look like a jock...” Quirking an eyebrow he gave Pete a look like he had it all figured out. “Unless it’s a one-time thing for halloween and you’d never be caught dead in eyeliner otherwise.”

“Um, no. Makeup is great for a guy, because it makes them beautiful, and how am I supposed to find beautiful people to love me otherwise??” Patrick mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like yes you are but fired off a real return question so fast he couldn't pursue it.

“So...you’re actually into guys then?” He was looking up at Pete from under lowered lashes, cheeks pink from either the alcohol or the nature of his wondering...but then he lifted his chin in something like defiance, daring him to answer.

“Um, yeah. I’d definitely put myself in the Pan box, if I have to be in one. Like I said, I just like beautiful people.” Pete took another drink, eyes coming back to Patrick’s intrigued look. “Hell of a fast transition from eyeliner to that.” But Patrick just shrugged.

“Honesty is the best policy.” He grabbed a frosted sugar cookie from the plate and broke it in half, handing one piece to Pete, shrugging as he took a bite. He took another drink, making a face as he got to an inexpertly-mixed layer of what was probably pure Everclear. “I mean, I’m Bi so I’ll definitely give you points on the scale for the girl jeans.”

“Scale?” Pete took another drink and leaned forward, telling himself that it was just so he could hear Patrick better over the bassline of the song that had shuffled on, and not because of how blonde hairs were poking out adorably from under the wig. “What scale?”

“The hotness scale, duh.” Patrick answered like he had asked what two plus two was, and gave him a look like he was re-assessing Pete’s placement. But before he could insist on more elaboration, Patrick’s eyes widened and he cocked his head to the side. “Wait, you said you know Brendon? Brendon Urie?”

“Yeah, tall, bony-as-fuck, brown hair--personality of a chihuahua on acid?” Pete took another swig, the alcohol thrumming through his veins in time with the beat.

“Dude, he’s dating my finals partner in Musical Composition--Ryan, uhh, Ross?” Patrick pushed his glasses up his nose a bit from where they had slid down, before wrinkling it in distaste. “My teacher assigned us all partners and he’s who I got and he doesn't like Michael Jackson. I honestly can’t stand him.”

“OH MY GOD THANK YOU.” Pete pumped the air with his fist. “I keep telling B that he’s just a whiny little stuck-up princess. I can’t stand the way he treats him--like he’s too good or something, and Brendon just lets him get away with it.”

“Not to mention the guy thinks he’s the next Madonna but he doesn’t even know what 4/4 time is.” Patrick mumbled into his cup, tipping it back before holding it out to Pete. “Fill me up?”

Ladling a slightly-unsteady slug into Patrick’s cup, Pete leaned in and slid his hand over the cup. “Nah-uh. Cost for my fantastic catering services is telling me where I’m at on that hotness scale.” Patrick pulled out of his grip with a scowl and defiantly drank down the contents in a single motion, draining it dry before fixing Pete with a devilish grin made even better with his cheeks sudden ruddiness.

“Jock who wears eyeliner and girls jeans? And you hang out with theater nerds, and you know who Buddy Holly is?” He grinned, biting his lip as blue-green eyes dared him from behind the safety of his lenses. “Seems like a pretty solid six to me.”

“A _six_?!” Pete couldn’t help the way his voice screeched a bit in surprise, and he held a hand to his chest in mock-injury. “Really!?”

“Well...that cape means I can’t see your ass. That could definitely give you a few points depending, but you hid it. Poor life decision.” He reached around and refilled his glass, skin brushing tantalizingly against Pete’s as he ladled them both another dose of Jungle Juice and dared him to argue with his eyes.

“Oh, because your ass looks so good in your high-waisted grandpa pants, right?” Pete shot back, taking a drink as Patrick’s eyebrows rose to the edges of his black wig, before lowering in a challenge.

“I prefer to think of it as camouflage--it only hides things when you don’t know where to look.” He grinned tantalizingly at Pete, the left side of his mouth tucked up in a smirk that made his nose crinkle just a bit. “Plus, if you don’t know who I’m dressed up as, you’d never get to find out if my ass is awesome or not.”

“So I definitely passed that test, let’s see if we can keep my winning streak going.” Leaning in and not caring a bit, Pete lifted his chin and settled his elbows on the counter. “What’s next? Do I have all of David Bowie’s records? ‘Cause I do, _on vinyl_.”

Eyes widening momentarily Patrick leaned in until they were mirroring each other over the counter--a right triangle with the apex of their lips separated only by a whisper of intention and an intimate game of chicken.

“Well, guess the last question is how good a kisser you are.” Pete couldn’t look away as petal-pink lips formed the question. He licked his own in anticipation as he leaned just an inch forward, closing the gap until all Patrick would have to do to close the circuit was move an equidistant amount.

“Find out.” He whispered it like a dare, like a promise...and delicious hope skittered down his spine, coiling in his gut as he stared into sea-blue eyes and wondered what the snarky reply would be. But instead, Patrick just hummed like he had said the right thing and closed the distance, sealing their lips together...and oh what lips they were. Pete felt like he was drowning, falling into an ocean full of soft, petal-plushness and the lightest brush of tongue and….

“Mmmphgg.” Patrick pulled away and for a split second, Pete thought that maybe it was all going wrong, that it was going to crumble into a sputtered accusation and an angry glare. But instead, Patrick just gave him a devilish smile full of want and excitement and grabbed his hand. Without finesse he yanked him around the counter, pulling him towards...a pantry?

He was bundled into the small space without preamble, grabbing at the light that Pete briefly glimpsed hanging precariously from the ceiling before giving up and pushing Pete against the shelves. Cans of who-knows-what skittered to the floor around them both and the outlines of the room spun in the dimness as the alcohol surged through him in protest but all he could feel was Patrick. His body firmly planted and pushing against him, hands cupping his cheeks and tongue darting against his lower lip like a hinted tease. Pete couldn’t help the moan that fell from his lips at the way it felt, mouth opening without hesitation or forethought...and then he was gone, lost in the push of Patrick’s tongue, the press of their lips, the unconscious grinding of their hips together like they were bound together. His brain was fuzzy, jumbled with want and Everclear and excitement and he just needed.

There was a sliver of light coming from the not-quite-closed door and it caught the corner of his vision as he fell to his knees, hands scrabbling for the fly of Patrick’s ridiculous pants, needing without knowing how to ask, babbled begging and hope falling from his lips as he hoped the answer would be yes regardless. He glanced up, the spear of light illuminating was the way Patrick’s lower lip was bitten between his teeth and the way his head fell back with a thunk as Pete reached into the damned pants and got his hand around the velvet-hard length of Patrick’s cock. His wig had fallen somewhere, revealing a sweaty, jumbled mess of wheat-brown hair that looked soft and he wanted to twist between his fingers.

Before nerves or ego could stop them or an errant tin can could fall on their heads, Pete swallowed him down, heart clenching at the way Patrick shouted his name muffled down to a whisper around his hand as he covered his own mouth. He bobbed without finesse or grace, too buzzed to try to be fancy. It was simply sucking and swirling his tongue on the upside in an effort to get as much in at once so that this mouthy, cheeky, fucking hot guy would be caught--hook, line, and sinker--into his life, into his heart, into his bed. STD statistics flashed through his alcohol-addled brain and he pushed them away, praying that this kid was clean but not caring, because goddamn he’d take antibiotics for a week if it mean he got to see him come.

“Mmmm, I’m--Pete--” He stuttered, batting at him ineffectually and Pete just ignored it, slurping harder and increasing the vigor of his movements. With a deep, rumbling groan Patrick came down his throat, hot and bitter and perfect. It settled on his tongue as Patrick staggered, slumping down to the cluttered ground of the pantry, the shaft of light laid across his open mouth, revealing the way his throat was working as he came down.

Close to bursting himself, Pete shoved his hand in his too-tight pants, practically thrumming with desire and want...when gentle-but-insistent hands were undoing his fly, covering and replacing his fingers and oh God this kid had rhythm, just like he had thought at the Fall Showcase. Moving in a cadence that had every nerve in his body singing, Patrick leaned in close and kissed him, licking the taste of himself from his mouth and Pete thought he would just die at that.

But he was wrong--he was pretty sure his soul left his body when Patrick pulled away and whispered in his ear things that Buddy Holly would never have said, things that made Pete’s hips stutter into his hand in desperation. “God you’re so fucking hot, you looked so good on your knees, fuck. Next time you gotta let me--I saw you looking at my mouth, you know I can blow you until you want to fucking die and I fucking swear I will--”

That was it--Pete was coming his brains out, hands spasming in the hideous plaid of Patrick’s oversized sports coat, throwing his head back and screaming silently in open-mouth ecstasy. Patrick bit at the column of his neck, lips mapping out the movement of his muscles as they worked and constricted and Pete didn’t think he’d ever felt so destroyed as in that moment.

Slumping forward he was caught in a gentle embrace, Patrick’s body solid and warm against his own shuddering one. Soothing hands smoothed through his hair and he was momentarily taken with the perfection of Patrick’s neck, pressing his lips there and smiling at the resultant shiver.

“So...guess I’m an okay kisser?” He murmured and grinned at the way Patrick’s laughter buzzed through his chest.

“Yeah, I think I’m just gonna throw the scale away and keep you.” Patrick answered and Pete just nodded, tightening his hands around Patrick’s waist before tipping his head up so he could kiss his mouth, feasting on the delight of warm perfection.

Outside, someone stumbled against the door and yelled for shots...but Pete decided he was more than happy to stay in that pantry forever.

  
~~2013~~

“Who’s going to be the handsomest Mr. Smee ever?” Cooing over Keenan as he finished fastening the diaper, he snapped together the striped onesie and pulled his little blue pants over his rump. “You are, aren’t you buddy? Oh yes, just the cutest.” The baby grinned up at him with toothless glee, cackling as Patrick blew a raspberry on his neck and the fuzzy hairs from his wig tickled his face and he couldn’t help but laugh. God being a dad was the greatest thing in the world.

Picking him up, he settled the little red hat his sister Hillary had crocheted especially for the day on his head, smiling at Keenan’s intrigued look at the soft thing suddenly on his head...but as usual he just accepted it. Seriously, world’s most laid back baby ever.

He was greeted in the living room to the chaos that was Pete Wentz, Father and real-life Peter Pan for the night. He was in an accurately-sparse costume, leaves going up over one shoulder leaving his chest mostly bare. The tights showed off his ass amazingly if Patrick was being honest, but he pushed those thoughts down for later. Ellie was chasing him around the living room, wand held out like a saber and laughing that he had to hold still otherwise the pixie dust would fall off and he wouldn’t be able to fly. She was a picture perfect version of Tinkerbell, blue eyes twinkling and golden curls in a high ponytail as she finally caught up to her Daddy and tapped him several times with the wand--one of which landed squarely on his tights-clad crotch. Patrick winced in sympathetic pain as Pete folded in on himself a bit, trying to not fall to the ground and scare her.

“Where’s Tinkerbell?” Patrick thundered out, catching Pete’s grateful glance as he staggered to the couch, and he strode into the room imperiously. “I put her in my lantern, but she’s gone!” Ellie broke out giggling at his outfit, running over pat his wig as he sat down on the couch and let out the three-year-old belly-laughs that Patrick loved more than anything.

“Papa! You look so funny!” She pulled a curl and fluffed the lace at his throat. “You don’t look mean like Captain Hook at all!” Scrunching his face into as best an approximation of a comical scowl as he could, Patrick growled at her and brandished his hook.

“You better fly away, missy fairy, or it’ll be the plank for you!” Patrick pretended to growl and Ellie shrieked and scampered over Pete, narrowly missing his crotch again and pretending to cower behind him.

“Daddy! Captain Hook is going to make me walk the plank!” Giving Patrick a grin that made his toes curl and his insides flip-flop, Pete shook his head, jumping to his feet and sweeping his daughter into his arms.

“Never! I’ll fight the vile Crocodile myself!” He dramatically reached at his side, before looking comically at Ellie. “Oh no! I don’t have my sword!! What will we do?” He reached into the pumpkin bucket on the couch. “Will Captain Hook accept a box of Nerds to hold off on our duel?”

Patrick looked pointedly at the scattered empty candy wrappers. “I thought the point was to go get candy.” Pete shrugged, unashamed as Ellie wriggled out of his arms.

“Papa! Keenan’s hat came off!” She grabbed it and held it up, and Patrick crouched down so she could place it tenderly on her brother’s head and press a kiss to his chubby cheek. “There. Now he’s a proper Mr. Smee.”

“Thanks, baby girl. Ready to go Trick-or-Treating?” Patrick asked, and it was a flurry of activity to get the stroller for the baby and pack jackets for everyone in case the night got cold and they were off…

The first stop was the Nelsons next door--they had festooned the stoop with all sorts of decorations and had only reminded Patrick about fifteen times to bring the kids by the house. They gushed over Ellie’s wings and declared her the most perfect Tinkerbell in the world and gave them enough candy to last them weeks. They worked their way down the street slowly, Ellie holding Pete’s hand as they walked chattering away with Patrick bringing up the rear with Keenan’s stroller.

“Papa, what did you say Uncle Joe and Aunt Marie were dressing up as?”

“You’ll have to see, honey. They wanted it to be a surprise.”

“But you know what it is, right?” She gave him an inquisitive stare, like he was holding back state secrets.

“Well…yes.” He shrugged. “You’ll see soon enough, okay?”

Ellie crinkled her nose in distaste, looking up at Pete. “Why does Papa always know everything?”

Looking back over his shoulder at Patrick, his face creased in silent laughter, Pete shook his head as he looked down at his daughter. “Trust me, peanut, I wonder that all the time too.”

The rest of the houses were enthusiastically Trick-or-Treat’d by Pete and Ellie, Patrick smiling as they experimented with different voices for their call at the door, laughing each time like they were sharing the world’s funniest joke. He felt the familiar warmth in his chest as he watched them--thick as thieves, best friends and confidants, Pete loved his daughter with a fierceness he’d only ever shown with Patrick. While she ran to Patrick when she was afraid or hurt, she would smile the world’s brightest smile when Pete came home and they would fall into a pretend world of aliens and spaceships, cowboys and Indians, knights and princesses…whatever Ellie could imagine, Pete would jump into with both feet.

Soon enough, they reached the Trohman’s house, front pillars wrapped with cobwebs and purple lights with candles flickering in a multitude of carved pumpkins. They pushed open the door and Ellie was off in search of her best friend, barreling through the house screaming RUBBBYYYYY at the top of her lungs. Pete grinned at Patrick as he pulled Keenan from the stroller, laughing at his giant yawn as he swung him up into his arms. “You can’t be tired yet, Mr. Smee! You have to help me defeat the Papa Crocodile!” Keenan gave him a toothless baby smile that had him chuckling as Marie swooped in full of smiles and laughter.

“You guys made it!” She pressed a kiss to Keenan’s cheek, earning another baby smile and a bubbling giggle, before giving Patrick a hug.

“Wouldn’t miss it. Plus, I’m pretty sure Ellie is mad at me for not telling her what you and Joe were dressing up as.” Marie laughed at that, guiding them into the kitchen where Joe was pulling beers from the fridge.

“Howdy, Pardner’s!” He drawled out, grinning as Marie went to stand next to him. Any further adult conversation was forestalled as Ellie barreled into the kitchen with Ruby close in tow.

“Oh my gosh, UNCLE JOE! AUNT MARIE!” Ellie’s eyes were wide as she took them in, “You’re Woody and Jessie!” She glared at her Papa, giving him a grumpy stare. “Papa wouldn't tell me what you were going to be!”

“Well, that was our fault, Ellie-girl.” Joe drawled, giving her a wide smile. “We wanted it to be a surprise since they’re your favorite, so don’t be mad at your Papa.” Patrick gave his daughter a woebegone expression, eyes wide and lower lip stuck out in a pout. With a giggle, she ran over and plastered his mustached-face with kisses as he bent down to let her press her lips to his cheeks. Then she was running tumbling out with Ruby to play with the dog, yammering something about he should be Bullseye and Pete was laughing as he talked to Joe, Keenan chewing on his fingers in his arms. Patrick helped Marie with the food and soon enough they were all clustered around the table eating pot roast and mashed potatoes, Ruby telling them all that the next day it would be Christmas. They played a Halloween-themed rendition of Duck, Duck, Goose except it was Pumpkin, Pumpkin, Skeleton. Ellie kept forgetting and yelling gooooooose! Instead, but she shrieked with laughter when she picked her Daddy every time and he made ridiculous zombie noises as he chased her. They settled down to watch The Nightmare Before Christmas, Keenan already fast asleep in Marie’s arms and Ellie sandwiched between her parents. She and Ruby talked animatedly for the first bit, awed with the idea of lands for each holiday...but when Oogie Boogie came out she burrowed into Patrick’s side to hide. Pete calmed her, assuring her it would all be okay and she poked her head out to give him a distrustful look, but kept a tight hold on Patrick’s hand.

By the time the movie had ended, Ruby was asleep curled up with the Labradoodle on the carpet and Ellie was passed out with her head on Patrick’s lap. The adults laughed and talked while the credits played, reminiscing about Halloween Parties Past, Pete telling Marie about the time he had convinced Joe to do a couples costume with him their freshman year and how adorable he had looked as Tweedle Dum. But then Ruby woke up, crawling into Joe’s lap mumbling about Oogie ate the candy and he laughed as he carried her to bed. Pete helped Marie clean up from dinner, shaking his head when Patrick tried to extricate himself from Ellie’s grip...so he had just wrapped his arms a bit tighter around her and grinned at pictures from Kevin and his girlfriend dressed up as vampires.

~//~

_He opened the lid and shook his fist_  
_And said, "Whatever happened to my Transylvania twist?"_

  
_It's now the mash_  
_It's now the monster mash_  
_The monster mash_  
_And it's a gravelyard smash_

He couldn’t help but grin as he watched from the doorway, pulling the ridiculous wig off his head and fluffing his hair from where the weight of the black curls had pushed it against his skull. His face felt dry from where he had scrubbed off the black eyeliner that he had used to draw on his mustache, but pushed the thought away. Pete was singing tunelessly to Ellie, the song somehow twisted into a lullaby as he pulled her limp arm from the costume and then worked it gently off her head. He gently dresssed her in a pair of My Little Pony pajamas on before tucking the blankets up around her chin, and she mumbled something unintelligible. A quick hunt around the blankets and he found her bedmate, a floppy dog stuffed animal she had cunningly named Dog and loved more than anything. He tucked it under her arm, and Patrick felt his heart squeeze in his chest as his husband bent down and whispered something in Ellie’s ear, pressing a kiss to her cheek and smoothing down her blonde curls lovingly. Turning from the bed he saw Patrick and gave him a smile, flipping on the fairy lights over her bed before shutting the door quietly.

“Creeping?” He asked, pressing a smiling kiss to Patrick’s lips that made him melt on the inside...though watching Pete with Ellie always seemed to do that.

“Just a little. Can’t help it...Captain Hook’s always looking for Peter Pan, after all.” He grinned as Pete’s eyes sparkled, childish delight to be his erstwhile Spirit-Disney-Character glowing on his face.

“Oh yeah?” Pete laughed, pulling him towards the bedroom, hands undoing the large buckle of Patrick’s coat then moving to the buttons in a line down his chest. “Well…” He kicked the door shut behind them and slid his hands along Patrick’s ribs, and he couldn’t help the way he shuddered at Pete’s warm hands sliding along his skin. “Now that you’ve trapped Peter Pan, what are you going to do with me?”

“I’m seriously not letting you make this about some sexually-repressed childhood crush you had on Captain Hook.” Patrick laughed as he slid the column of leaves from Pete’s shoulder, undoing the hidden Velcro that kept the skirt-like wrap of leaves around his hips as Pete set to work on his pants, pushing the now-unbuttoned shirt from his shoulders as he pressed biting kisses to his lips.

“Hey, he was a classy dresser with that hat and all!” Pete argued playfully, undoing the button on Patrick’s pants so they fell to the floor with a thunk of sword belt and plastic pistol.

“Mmmm.” Patrick hummed, struck with inspiration as he helped Pete shimmy out of his electric green tights. Pushing him gently, he stepped out of his boots with a minimum of stumbling--impressive--and moved them both towards the dresser. “You definitely are just as flamboyant.” He pushed him over the smooth surface, wide brown eyes snapping to his in the mirror as he pressed his half-hard cock to the seam of Pete’s ass, gratified at the small gasp that tumbled from his lips. He pressed a sharp kiss to the curve of Pete’s neck, mouth watering at the way he shuddered--just a gentle twitch of muscles--that he could feel as he slid to his knees. Pete tried to turn but he held him firmly against the dresser, hands on his hips as he bit into the round perfection now at nose-level, smiling at the resultant yelp of pleasure. “Your ass looked amazing in those tights, though.” He spread him wide, tongue lapping at his hole and he felt himself harden the rest of the way at the way Pete moaned. “And you know you look fucking good without a shirt on.” Deciding he had teased enough--for now--he went to work, licking with broad stripes and working his fingers in as he opened him up and listening to Pete whimper.

When he was two fingers deep, he grabbed Pete’s hand and pulled his own free, smiling at his noise of surprised unhappiness as he guided him to replace his fingers. “Don’t stop.” Pete just mumbled something that sounded like motherfuck as he spread his legs and kept working his body obediently. Moving across the room quickly, Patrick rounded the bed and pulled open the bedside drawer, grabbing the bottle of lube. His eyes went back to Pete--legs spread wide, his body resting on his arm and forehead pressed to the smooth glass of the mirror. His hand worked rhythmically, hips shifting back and forth and Patrick could feel a pang of want so sharp he couldn’t help but take a sharp breath in, half-tempted to just give Pete the lube and make him finish himself off. But his cock throbbed unhappily at the thought and he filed it away as a plan for later, for a weekend when his mom took the kids and moved back quickly. Pete heard him coming, eyes snapping open and going pleadingly to Patrick and the way his boxers were tented, his mouth open and panting deliciously. Slicking his fingers up generously, Patrick slipped one gently inside alongside his and was unable to hold back a groan of his own at the way he clenched around both their fingers. It felt naughty in a totally ridiculous way, like he was a voyeur that couldn’t hold back from participating. He curled his finger against Pete’s, pushing him against his own prostate and grinning in the mirror at the shudder that went through him, loving the way he threw his head back on Patrick’s shoulder and arched up into it.

“’Trick, I--oh god--c’mon, you gotta--”

“Gotta what?” Patrick curled their fingers, feathering and then pushing exactly where Pete needed it, where he was craving and crying to be touched. Sweat glistened on his chest--maddeningly bronze and perfect--and Patrick wanted to bite and mark and ruin that gorgeous expanse of perfect skin. But the view was too good and his cock was very insistently reminding him that it was there, so he contented himself with biting Pete’s neck on the other side, sucking a bruise as they finger-fucked him into a gasping, trembling mess. “Are you saying I shouldn’t finish you just like this?” Pete shook his head vigorously against Patrick’s shoulder, mouth slack as he panted and rolled his hips in time.

“N-no, c’mon, stop fuckin’ around and fucking fuck me already--” Shaking his head, Patrick grinned as he pulled his boxers down. He pulled his hand from Pete’s body and coated himself liberally before nudging Pete’s arm away so he was bare, glistening with lube and empty. Guiding his cock into place, he whispered look at me and Pete’s eyes snapped open, his head coming off his shoulder so they could stare straight at each other in the mirror. Heat smoldered in his eyes, pupils blown so the brown was just a band of topaz iris visible as he bit his lip and nodded, eager...and Patrick wanted. Gently, oh so gently even though he ached to slam into that hot tightness until he was surrounded, he pushed in an inch at a time. Pete shook, legs trembling until Patrick took mercy and pushed his own knees into the hollow of Pete’s buttressing him up so all he had to do was look until he bottomed out, buried in him balls deep and nearly ready to explode. He closed his eyes, pressing his forehead to Pete’s shoulder as he bit his lip between his teeth, the sharp pang enough to bring him back from the brink, to help him take a deep breath and get it under control.

“--Thought...you said...to look at you.” Pete panted out, the snarky, sassy words mocked by his breathy, gasping tone, his mouth writing checks his body couldn’t cash. Head coming up just enough for their eyes to meet, Patrick rolled his hips, deliberately pushing deeper and stroking the place deep inside him that would make him howl and scream and beg if he kept at it long enough. Sure enough, Pete’s hands tightened on the edge of the dresser, knuckles whitening as he moaned low and hungry,

“What was that?” Patrick asked, pulling out a few inches to drive back in, setting a rhythm that was growing, rolling like a wave as his thrusts got to be more, pulling out farther and farther each time so the slide was a delicious incline of who would break eye contact first, who would surrender to the pleasure first. He could feel sweat rolling down his spine as he held his breath, hips snapping into Pete’s harder and harder, and he swore he wouldn’t be the one to give in.

Two thrusts later and Pete crumbled, releasing his own held breath as he slumped, face pressing to the mirror as his hand scrabbling around to grab at Patrick’s ass, to pull him closer as he closed his eyes, starting to moan with wanton need. He gave a tiny hiccuping sob as Patrick pulled his hips away and slipped his hand around the front to wrap around his cock, bracing his forearm against the wood of the dresser so the motion of their hips drove Pete’s cock into the loose, lubed circle of fingers that teased and danced delicately in time. “Yeah, look at me, look at yourself. So pretty, so needy, you just want don’t you.” He murmured into the skin of Pete’s neck, biting onto the tender skin just below his ear, knowing it would drive him wild. “Or don’t, if you can’t do it, it’s fine...you’re just so fucking pretty…” He trailed off as Pete growled low in his throat, pulling his head back an inch from the mirror to glare at Patrick in the mirror, mouth open and Patrick’s mind flashed with all the many things to that mouth--shove his cock in it until Pete gagged and choked, fit a ball gag between his pearly white teeth and watch him drool as he thrashed underneath him, press biting kisses to those lips until they swelled and bled…

“Fucker.” Pete gasped out as he reared back, hips working in sympathetic time with Patrick’s, pushing their bodies together like a wave crashing backwards from a sea wall. “But God you feel so good, Trick, fuck--”

“Not as good as you.” He purred, air whistling from his lungs as he tried desperately to hold on, to make Pete finish first. “Fuck you make me so hard, all night in those goddamn tights and all I could think about was getting you home and wrecking you--”

With a final thrust he took Pete apart, watching with greedy eyes as he arched into his hand, face scrunched into a mask of pleasure so intense it made his lip whiten where he bit it to keep from screaming. He came striping the front of the dresser, dribbling down Patrick’s hand as he fell apart with him, gasping around where he had bit down on his Pete’s shoulder, bruising and breaking the skin and knowing neither of them cared.

Sagging back into his arms, Pete’s legs buckled as he shuddered and Patrick took a staggering step and pulled them down in a graceless tumble to the bed. Tugging and mumbling laughing admonishment at his husband, he pulled his uncooperating limbs up until they were halfway on the bed before giving up as Pete curled around him like a vine.

Their breathing slowed, hearts’ stampeding pace calming and evening out and Patrick sat up to pull the remnants of the green tights from Pets’s ankles. Wiping his hand and Pete’s lower stomach clean, he couldn’t help but rub the material across his spent cock and savor the resultant shiver. Pete murmured something that sounded like asshole and Patrick chuckled. They clambered up the bed, pulling the sheets around them and settling into each other's arms, setting phones on chargers and setting alarms.

“You locked the door, right?” Pete mumbled into the skin of his neck and Patrick nodded.

“Your virtue is safe for the night, I promise.”

A rumble of laughter came from Pete’s chest and he nuzzled closer. “You know, if Ellie ever blows a guy in a pantry without a condom, I swear I’ll kill her. That’s how you get diseases.”

“Cause that totally stopped your reckless ass.” Patrick chuckled and ran his fingers through Pete’s hair, starting to curl from the perspiration. “You’re lucky I didn’t have like...herpes and the clap.”

Pete just shrugged and rolled onto his stomach to look down at his husband, blue eyes the color of midnight in the dimness of the room. “Were you seriously thinking about fucking me while we were taking our children Trick-or-Treating?” He dropped his jaw in mock horror. “For shame, Papa.”

“Shut up, Daddy.” Patrick rolled his eyes as Pete pressed a deep, tender kiss to his lips, feeling sleep starting to tug at him as the vestiges of his orgasm metamorphosed into a delicious heaviness in his limbs and a warm tide lapping at the edges of his brain. “Don’t pretend you didn’t try to fuck me at Ellie’s first birthday.” Pete laughed softly as he nestled close to him, tucking his head under Patrick’s chin and his foot under his knee.

“Not my fault you’re a hot dad.”

Patrick just hummed in response but his hand found Pete’s, twining their fingers over his heart as they both drifted to sleep.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> If you want a reference to what was my inspiration for their costumes as a family, google “NPH Halloween” and be blessed with a total overload of cuteness. You’re welcome.


End file.
